


A Single Ballad

by orphan_account



Series: In Endless Dance [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, Cousin Incest, Emotional Conflict, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of New Years Eve, Albus and Louis struggle to adapt to the sudden change in their relationship. Ties in with 'In Endless Dance.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Ballad

There was a loud knock on the door. 

Albus looked up from his book at his sister, who was sprawled out upon the armchair opposite him, her feet dangling over the sides, completely absorbed in her own book, and asked, "Are you going to get up and answer that?" He wasn't sure now why he'd bothered wasting his breath. He knew what the answer would be. 

"You're closer, Albus," she predictably decided, shifting a little in her seat. "And it's your turn to answer the door, remember?"

Albus glowered at her but chose not to respond. There wasn't any point. Lily took after their mother when it came to stubbornness, and if she didn't want to do something, Albus hadn't a chance in hell of making her do it. 

With a resigned sigh, he book-marked his page and tossed it onto the coffee table, pushing himself out of his chair, and trudged through the foyer to the front door. He opened it and instantly wished he hadn't: There on the doorstep, shifting nervously from foot to foot, was Louis. He was pale and visibly nervous, though he seemed to be doing his utmost to hide it. He was dressed in Muggle clothes, too, Albus noted through his irritation—a tight-fitting, long-sleeved black top, through which the muscled outline of his body was visible, and worn jeans. His hair was wet, as if he'd just stepped out of a shower, and hung loose to his shoulders. His boots were scuffed and crusted with dirt. Albus wondered where he'd been. 

He cleared his throat and stood away from the door a little. "What the hell do you want?" he asked rudely. He hadn't seen Louis in over five days, since just after New Year, when the boy had kissed him (on the lips!) and told Albus that he loved him. But if Albus had thought that night was going to change anything between them he'd been sorely mistaken. Fairly soon afterward Louis had taken to avoiding Albus again—he had not returned any of Albus' several letters—and now Albus was simply tired of being given the run-around. He wasn't going to put up with it a moment longer, and was determined to make sure Louis knew it. 

"Hi, Al." Louis kept his eyes focused on his feet. A dark blush stained his cheekbones. "I just came by to see if you were home and—"

"Oh, you're talking to me again, are you?" Albus snapped, interrupting him. He folded his arms across his chest and appraised his cousin head-to-toe. "You're unbelievable, you know that? Listen, I'll tell you what—I'm going to do us both a favour and close the door. That way, I can pretend you never came by, and we can both go back to ignoring each other. Sound good? After all, ignoring me is what you're best at."

Louis glanced up from his feet and flung a hand out to catch the door. He held it open, towering over Albus now, and shook his head. "I don't want to ignore you," he said in a low voice, sending shivers along Albus' spine. "And I wasn't..." he began, searching Albus' face as if he was desperate to find something there. "I wasn't ignoring you, alright? It's not like before. I just wanted to give you some space; some time to think about what happened. I know what I did wasn't fair and I at least wanted to give you some room to absorb it before you decided how to respond."

"Respond?" Albus echoed, staring up into Louis' face, his glare unwavering. "And what exactly did you expect me to say? What do you want from me, Louis?"

Louis flinched a little. "I don't want anything," he said in a whisper. "I thought I'd made that clear. You don't owe me anything, nor do I expect anything. I only wanted to talk to you. I miss you, Al..."

Albus lifted a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a low breath. "You know I miss you too," he admitted. "But I'm not going to do this, okay? You either stop acting like a prat and start telling me the truth or I... I'll let go of you forever. That's the way it is." He dropped his hand and looked up at his cousin. "So what's it going to be?"

"I won't lose you," Louis said, setting his jaw. A muscle in his cheek twitched. "I won't let you do that."

Albus let out a groan of frustration and threw up his hands. "Then stop avoiding me!"

Louis did not crack so much as a smile. "Come to the park with me?" he suggested after a few moments of terse silence. "I need to talk to someone."

"What, your mum's not home?" Albus asked him, raising a brow.

"Don't be cute, Albus," Louis warned him, that same serious look on his face. "I don't want to talk to anyone else; I want to talk to you."

"Perhaps you should have thought about that before you decided not to speak to me for months on end."

"I didn't think I had a choice," Louis explained in a tired voice. "Albus, I—I was too afraid to tell you, alright? I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Well, you weren't," Albus informed him drily. "In fact, you did a pretty good job of stuffing everything up. Congratulations."

"I'm sorry," Louis offered, as if he knew it was the only thing he was able to give. "Look, now that you know, things'll be different; I promise. I'll never even bring it up again if that's what you want. Who knows—maybe if I just ignore it, it'll all go away." The hopeful way he said this was almost heartbreaking.

Albus stared hard at Louis, desperate to discern whether or not he was being honest. And if he was, Albus wasn't entirely sure whether he even wanted Louis' feelings to just "go away". Nobody had ever loved him before. He wasn't sure it was something he wanted to lose. 

"All I know is that I can't lose you forever," Louis continued, his voice a low mumble. "You know you're the only thing I can count on, right?"

Albus bit his lip, secretly pleased, and looked down at his feet. "You want to go the park," he repeated.

"Only if you want to come with me," Louis said quickly. "We could stay here if you wanted; I just—I wanted to go someplace quiet to talk. Alone, you know?"

"Alright," Albus said after a short pause. "Just let me get my coat." As he hurried up the stairs to his bedroom, his stomach tight and fraught with nerves, he wondered whether he was making a mistake.

~o~

The park around the corner from the Potters' was deserted, dark and gloomy with the onset of nightfall. Without so much as a word to one another, Albus and Louis trudged over the grass, slippery and slick with rain, and stopped before the ancient set of swings. The pair of them had come here often as children, back before things had become so complicated, and Louis remembered that as a little boy, Albus had loved to be pushed on these swings—sometimes, for hours at a time. Louis couldn't help feeling slightly saddened by the memory. 

They each took a swing and, slowly, dragging their feet through the dirt below, began to sway back and forth. Neither said a word for a long while. 

"What did you want to talk about?" Albus asked finally.

Louis glanced at him sidelong but couldn't see his face. Albus had the hood of his jacket drawn up over his head, completely obscuring Louis' view of him. Clearing his throat, Louis shrugged and said, "Anything really. I miss you."

Albus allowed the silence to stretch out between them, tense and coiled. "Where were you when I missed you?" he asked, his voice so quiet that Louis was forced to strain his ears just to hear him. "You completely shut me out; made me feel like I'd done something wrong. I can't just forget about that, Louis. Things can't ever be like they were. You hurt me."

"I know that," Louis told him. He gripped the chains of the swing so hard that his hands felt numb. He didn't want to beg—he'd promised himself, before he'd come here, that he wouldn't. But Albus made him want to do exactly that—to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness. Because the thought of Albus withholding love from him was too horrible to contemplate. "Can't we just..." Unable to finish his sentence, he let out a sigh. "Never mind. I knew things weren't going to be the same as soon as I opened my big fat mouth. Take as long as you need."

Albus rested the side of his head against the roped chain that tethered the swing-seat to the rusted frame, curling his fingers around it. "I didn't even believe you at first," he mumbled, slowly swaying back and forth. "I thought you were just trying to make me feel stupid."

"Well I wasn't," Louis said. "And let's not talk about it. In fact, I think it's best if we both just pretend it never happened. Isn't that what people do when awkward, embarrassing stuff like this arises? Sweep it under the rug, that's what Dom always says..."

"I dunno what we're supposed to do," Albus admitted, his voice distant. "No one's ever told me they love me before. Not like that."

Louis didn't know what to say to this. Eventually, he decided on: "I shouldn't have even said anything. You're my cousin, Al. It's gross."

"Edgar Allen Poe married his cousin," Albus informed him. "Charles Darwin, too."

Louis narrowed his eyes at the boy. He couldn't decide whether or not Albus was trying to make him feel better about being so warped, or whether he was just trying to give him false hope. Neither option made him feel any better about the situation. "How'd you know that?"

"I read."

"Right," Louis said. He bit his lip and dragged the toes of his boots through the dirt. "This is different, though."

"Of course it is," Albus said shortly, and any hope Louis might have tentatively fostered was thereafter dead and buried. 

"Mum's fighting with Dad again," Louis said after a while, staring at his scuffed boots. 

"Again?"

Louis nodded. "I don't know what it is with her but she just can't let anything go. She's making everybody miserable, and I can't stand being in that house anymore—not while she's like this. I mean, I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I'm actually looking forward to going back to school. 

"Do you wanna stay with us until school goes back?" Albus offered gently.

Louis closed his eyes, resting his head against the thick metal rope, and let out a sigh. "I don't want to put your parents out." As miserable as he was, there was still a part of him that was immensely grateful—relieved, even—that Albus still loved him enough to care what was happening at home. 

"You won't be putting them out. You're family, Louis. Come on," Albus said, in that sweet and soothing voice of his, "you can stay in my room until Sunday. Just tell your mum we're going shopping for school stuff in Diagon Alley or something. I doubt she'll care much."

Louis opened one eye and looked at him. He could see the boy's face now, framed by the blue hood of his jacket, eyes wide and alive in his pretty face, and had to resist the urge to put a hand to Albus's cheek; to touch him in however small a way. "You don't mind?"

"Of course I don't." Albus let out a sigh, brushing a few wayward strands of dark hair out of his eyes, and added, "I know you need somewhere to stay, Louis. You look like hell; like you haven't slept in a week."

Louis silently conceded this point. It was hard to rest with his mother, father and sister shouting all night in the kitchen, with doors being slammed and dishes being thrown. "I'll stay out of your way," he promised, with an earnest look at Albus. "I won't do anything like the other night—"

A dark look stole into Albus' eyes, as though they'd been snatched out and replaced with pools of venom, and he snapped, "If and when I feel the need to be protected from you, I'll let you know. And I can't believe you're still sticking with this... with this  _farce_ , as if it's going to fix anything! As if I'm going to believe you! When are you going to drop the act and just admit you got bored of me? Merlin, Louis, you're so fucking  _stupid_!"

Heat flooded Louis' face. He had never heard Albus talk this way, had never even heard the boy curse like this before now. He was so shocked by it that he was at a loss as to how to respond. Finally, he did the only reasonable thing there was to do—he swallowed his words, got up, and walked away.

~o~

"That's right," Albus called after him, "just walk away—how mature of you!" Breathing hard through his nose, unable to temper his own rage and bitterness, he sat there with his fingers curled around the metal swing, eyes boring into Louis' back. "Louis!" he yelled. 

There was a low rumble of thunder, a flush of lightning, and a second later, the steady roar of rain. "Dammit!" Albus growled, low in his throat, and drew his slipped hood back over his head. "Louis, come back!" he demanded. Louis was almost at the road now, where he would most likely Disapparate. Furious with him, Albus pushed the swing away from him and stormed after him. 

"Louis!" he yelled again, almost slipping on the wet grass. 

When he finally caught up to his cousin, Albus grabbed him by the back of his sodden shirt violently yanked him back. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted. "Did you not hear me?"

Louis pushed his arm away but didn't turn around to face him. "Piss off, Al," he said thickly. "Just go home."

Albus' vicious anger vanished, almost as quickly as it had come, only to be replaced by fear. "Louis..." he began, alarmed by the rough sound of his cousin's voice. Was he  _crying_? He reached out to touch Louis' shoulder, but at the last moment decided not to.

Louis, his head bowed, ran a hand through his wet hair and cleared his throat. "It's all ruined, isn't it?" His voice was low and hoarse. "You're always going to be angry with me, and I'm... I'm never going to be able to make it up to you, am I?"

There was another flash of lightning. 

"I'm not angry with you," Albus said, though he wasn't sure whether this was true. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. "I'm just ... angry. With everything. With this." He let out a sigh. "I don't want this, Louis..."

Slowly, Louis turned to face him. Even tired and worn out, with red-rimmed eyes and a tight expression, he was so beautiful he put Adonis to shame. But Albus never remarked on the way Louis looked—he had learned long ago that to do so would only upset him. Because Louis believed that all beauty, most importantly his own, was hollow. 

"I don't want this either," Louis said wearily. He looked exhausted. "I know you're still upset with me," he went on, "and I know that you're confused. But this—I promise you it's not a farce. And how could I ever be bored with you?"

Albus didn't know what to say.

"Everything I told you was true," Louis continued, without waiting for an answer. "And if that makes it worse, then I'm sorry, but I don't want to fight with you anymore. I won't. If that means I have to go, then I will."

Albus blinked rain out of his eyes. "Don't go," he whispered. With force, he buried down the emotions—anger, confusion, love, pain—which were warring inside of him, and tentatively reached for Louis' hand. "You need me, Louis. And I-I need you, too. I don't want to fight anymore, either. We'll figure this out together, okay? Whatever it is. You and me."

Slowly, Louis nodded his acquiescence. Albus had never seen him look so vulnerable before, so childlike, as if their roles had suddenly been reversed: Louis was the child, the one in need of care, and Albus was here to look after him. 

"Come home with me?" Albus asked him, tilting his head to one side. 

Louis didn't say anything, only stood there worrying his lower-lip, and so with a sigh, Albus lifted the other boy's arm and ducked beneath it, winding an arm around Louis' waist. "Come on," he said sternly, and started to walk. "We're going home."


End file.
